


Fire and Water

by Alice_Rider



Series: Moments in Time [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Disaster Lance (Voltron), Gay Disaster Keith (Voltron), M/M, Sloppy Makeouts, idk - Freeform, so totally self serving, this is just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29166507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_Rider/pseuds/Alice_Rider
Summary: Keith is not patient by any means at all, and trying his best to be patient may actually be the death of him.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Moments in Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141127
Kudos: 47





	Fire and Water

**Author's Note:**

> So. I totally wrote this like 2 years ago, based loosely around some tumblr post or the other, and found it in a notebook maybe like a week ago. It's very dramatic and was completely self-serving but it was fun to write. So, enjoy I guess??

Keith is by no means a patient man; he slashes first, asks questions later. And it works for him. It’s gotten him this far in life, all the way to pilot of the Black Lion, leader of the Voltron rebellion, whether he wanted it or not. It’s also led him here, to the observation deck of a 10,000 year old castle hurtling through space at near light speeds, watching the stars drift by in an easy silence. It’s sights like this, moments like these, that make the turmoil and chaos of his situation, _their_ situation, worth it. 

It’s also moments like these, serene and peaceful and awe-inspiring, that make Keith realize just how easy it could have been for his recklessness and impatience to get them all killed. It’s not something he likes to dwell on. 

But he knows too, as much as he isn’t ready to admit it aloud, that a greater portion of the reason that all of them have even made it this far, have survived this long, to be able to stop and wonder at the marvels of the universe in simple, to be able to have stolen moments like these, is leaning on the rail next to him, close enough that their shoulders brush when they breathe, seemingly unawares of the sparks darting under Keith’s skin with every casual touch.

Keith’s a realist. It comes with the territory of his ankle-deep pool of patience, and it’s one of the only qualities of a leader he hasn’t had to force since he’s been thrust into this new, terrifying position of power, but even that hasn’t been able to stop him from lying to himself.

Because admitting just how far gone he is for those blue eyes, just how much he craves these quiet moments alone where they can just exist in each other’s company and _let go_ , is a pill he’s not ready to swallow. He tells himself that this isn’t the time, not in the middle of a war, not when they don’t know who’s going to get out of this alive, but he knows in his gut it’s because he’s trying to be patient. 

It’s funny. He’s never waited for anyone or anything in his life. Keith sees what he wants and he takes it, consequences be damned. And this waiting game, the second guessing himself, reading into every lingering gaze, every cursory touch, every sincere expression with such scrutiny until he can’t tell which way is up and which way is down, it’s so completely foreign to him. He doesn’t know what to do anymore when his gut tells him to do one thing but his head demands the opposite. It leaves him breathless and frustrated, red in the face and biting his lip until the marks in his skin are all but permanent. Being patient might actually be the death of him. 

Blue, blue as deep as the sea and as boundless as the sky, lands on him; a brow shoots upwards and “Hey, are you ok, man? You’re staring,” slides past quirked lips.

Shit.

Keith whips his gaze back out the window, but there's no way to explain the violent shade of red that he can feel creeping up his neck, so he doesn’t even try. His gut is urging his feet to run, to retreat to safety, to be _anywhere else_ where he can pretend he’s not completely enamored by this boy. But his fingers tighten around the rail, anchoring him in place by order of his traitorous heart.

A shoulder bumps against his, on purpose this time, and the sparks under Keith’s skin finally ignite, a fire low in his belly that crawls through his veins, filling him with warmth.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” The tone is light, but there’s something more underneath, a hint of concern, a note of something compelling.

Keith finally looks back up, to the crashing blue waves of Lance’s eyes, heart in his throat. The flames in Keith smolder under his skin.

Oh _fuck this._

Keith can’t take one more second of this. He needs the answer to all his questions right _now_ , before either the inferno or the uncertainty kills him. 

Keith grabs the front of Lance’s shirt and pulls his lips down to meet them.

Keith can feel Lance freeze, the way his whole body tenses, the sharp inhale of surprise, but Keith keeps his eyes screwed shut and his lips pressed firmly against Lance’s. Keith needs to know, but he doesn’t know what he’d do if the answer is no. His heart races, threatens to shatter ribs, makes it hard to breathe.

Lance’s hands on his hips burn like a brand, even through his clothes. The fire burns hot, too hot, as Keith steels himself for the inevitable rejection.

But then Lance’s gentle breath fans over his face and the fingers on his hips find purchase to bring them closer. Lance is melting under Keith’s touch, moves his mouth against him like gentle waves, abates the ardent pyre that vies to reduce him to ashes.

Keith breaks away, gasping for air because what is breathing, and one of Lance’s hands moves to cup his jaw and lead him back up. Lance is so eager beneath Keith’s wandering touch, blessedly cool under his fingers, clashing with the flames just under the surface, sending jolts of electricity through every nerve wherever they meet.

Lance pulls back, breathes a shaky “thank God” before Keith claims his lips again, rough and desperate until Lance is _keening_ , hands roaming with no final destination planned.

The push and pull of the current is no longer gentle. Keith is swept out to sea in the rip tide, in the way soft lips press against his like a dying man clinging to life, and Keith would gladly drown in this, in Lance, if that meant he’d never have to forget the taste of Lance on his tongue.

Keith’s fingers wander into the length of curls around Lance’s nape to wrap around and pull; it drags a punched out moan from Lance that reverberates through every one of Keith’s cells. So Keith yanks, and while it takes Lance’s mouth from him, it reveals a tantalizing stretch of neck that Keith does not waste any time in laving with wet, open mouth kisses. Keith drags his tongue along his pulse, revels in every short, huffing pant and every whimpering whine that fills the air around them.

“Keith.” His name slips past Lance’s lips towards the heavens, and Keith can’t help it, he bites down right behind Lance’s jaw, and his name bleeds into a groan on Lance’s lips.

Lance breaks free of Keith’s grasp, and when his gaze meets Keith’s, he can see the raging storm and crashing waves that promise his destruction.

“Lance!”

Keith and Lance are three feet apart in the space of a heartbeat, faces red and gasping for breath, before they realize there’s no one in the room with them.

“Lance, man you have to come see this!” the overhead speakers crackle above them as Hunk’s voice fills the room. “Pidge actually got it to work! Meet us in the cargo bay, now!” There’s a faint _click_ as the comms switch off, leaving the room quiet save for Lance’s shaky laughs, breathless as he leans against the rail for support while Keith just stares blankly at him, willing his heart to restart.

“What,” finally fills the air, and it takes Keith a moment to realize that it’s his voice, “was that?”

“Who knows. I’m almost scared to find out.” Lance shoots the door an uncertain glance, takes half a step towards Keith before scratching the back of his head. “Look, I really don’t want to be the kiss-and-run type of guy, ‘cause that was amazing and I would so not mind doing that again. Like, at all. But you know Hunk. If I don’t go, he’s just gonna--”

“Lance,” It takes more force to summon his voice than Keith currently has in reserves and more brain function than he has to spare, so it comes out wobbly and winded, “go. It’s fine.”

“Really? You sure?” Lance perks right up when Keith gives a small nod, and Keith’s racing heart skips a beat. “You’re the best. So, later, then?” Lance shoots Keith the finger guns, and Keith could laugh if his world wasn’t still spinning. 

“Later.”

Keith’s knees hold up until the door swishes shut behind Lance, then he’s sliding down the rail to the cool floor, though it’s not helping the flames running rampant in his system.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I always enjoy hearing from you guys, so please don't be afraid to drop a comment (or request something if you'd like!) I'm always lurking.
> 
> Always.


End file.
